


Petal Talk

by Edgelord (lostlikeme)



Category: Maleficent (2014)
Genre: Angst, Community: ladiesbingo, F/F, Language of Flowers, Purple Prose
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-22
Updated: 2017-02-22
Packaged: 2018-09-26 04:52:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9863714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lostlikeme/pseuds/Edgelord
Summary: Maleficent has her way with Aurora, in flowery prose.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AruWolf](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AruWolf/gifts).



> For the Ladies Bingo prompt "dusk."

Around Aurora, Maleficent opens up like moonflowers at dusk. The seeds are poisonous, and the vines climb and root like a common weed, but Aurora remains untouched. She lowers herself into the flowers, free as a feather, and sways, hands around her heels. Maleficent stands rigidly beside her, poised as a stone gargoyle beneath the falling snow. 

Evening creeps upon them in small, shadowy steps, like a sundial in the sand. Aurora sighs, chin resting on grass stained kneecaps, and Maleficent follows her gaze. The sunset spills out into the horizon like a broken yolk as the entire sky begins yellowing, clouds lit up like wisps of fiery cotton candy. 

Aurora watches the moon succumb to midnight, hair fanning out in a halo around her head. Blades of grass tickle her shoulders when Aurora turns to face her. Her attention scorches Maleficent like a beam of ultraviolet light; she sinks to the ground almost as swiftly as if she’s been cowed. Their fingers inch closer, trading warmth like two wicks caught between the same flame. 

“I’ll stay here with you,” Aurora says gently. 

The promise has long since become a betrayal, but Maleficent doesn’t blame her. Love is something often sought, but rarely wrangled. Soft as tissue paper, it tears too easy to hold close. Aurora curls a fist in her cloak and twists her body closer. When Maleficent pulls away there’s pollen dusting the pads of her fingers. 

“No,” Maleficent whispers, throat hoarse. “You won’t.”

Maleficent closes her eyes, but she can still feel it--the black tendril snaking itself around Aurora’s ankle, weaving through the transparent downy hair along her calf before splitting into five like a frayed thread. They attach, each one of them, elastic and sticky, to the skin on her stomach. This is the part where Maleficent listens to her heartbeat skip.

“I’m sorry.”

How many times does it take for a habit to become a compulsion? Maleficent knows she can’t stop herself from doing what comes next. Even worse, she doesn’t want to. Alone without hope, she’s become her own worst enemy, and now she likes it that way. She waits for the wrench in Aurora’s features, the way her brow turns up and she breathes full of fear. 

The ceiling parts like pulled taffy as the shadow rears up at the base in an oil slick mass. They ribbon around Aurora’s rib cage, crawling across her collarbones to reach her throat. Maleficent can feel her inside out, and she knows what’s best.

She watches Aurora fall into a field of white chrysanthemums, swallowed up like an angel being pulled back to heaven. Even here, in the thick smog of her own mind, Maleficent can’t control her.

Consciousness cracks apart with a roll of thunder and the dream falls away in pieces. The picture fades, but the scars on her back feel as though they’re being reopened one at a time. She’s still herself, but splintered. Alive, but never living. Without her, Maleficent feels nothing.


End file.
